


Come On Then, Come On

by starkidpatronus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, LOL this happened literally two and a half months ago, M/M, Oblivious! Liam, Porn with Feelings, This was supposed to be a drabble, and it's taken me THIS LONG to finish it i am trash, another trope we know is bull but is fun to write, even we all know that's bull, handjob, hella angst, i started this THE NIGHT i found out about it, it's fun to write, pining! zayn, these two ruined my life and i wish i could mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."</em><br/>― Federico García Lorca, <em> Blood Wedding and Yerma </em><br/>Or, the one where Zayn finally does something right (but manages to fuck it up), Liam is clueless, Niall doesn't get it, Harry is a good friend, and everyone's kind of sad about everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On Then, Come On

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that now-famous quote, "Come on then, come on," and these two idiots I decided to devote my life to for some weird reason.  
> HAS NOT BEEN BRIT-PICKED AND WAS BARELY PROOF-READ BY MYSELF SO I'LL PROBABLY BE MAKING EDITS SORRY

Zayn doesn’t know why he does it.

Or, well, scratch that, he knows why he does it; he just doesn’t know what makes him so damn stupid. He has no idea what comes over him. One moment, he’s play-fighting with Liam, wrestling and hitting and trying to get the upper hand. The next, he’s letting his gaze lock onto Liam’s eyes and wander to the curve of his cheek and finally rest on his lips. Christ, those fucking _lips_. Zayn could write a thousand songs about those lips. He’s been wanting to know the feel of those lips against his own for months. They look like they’d fit Zayn’s perfectly. And suddenly, something in Zayn’s mind snaps, and he wants to find out if his hypothesis is true.

So he goes for it. He’s shoving Liam against the wall, and they’re both laughing, and Zayn’s going, “Come on then, come on.” And then he’s leaning in and really _going for it_ , pressing his lips to Liam’s, and, oh, God, it’s everything he’s been dreaming of for months and what’s felt like years and Liam’s lips are just as soft as Zayn has always expected they would be and he tastes _wonderful_ , like citrus and mint and everything is lining up perfectly until—

Until Zayn notices that Liam isn’t kissing back.

Zayn stumbles back, apologies spilling from his lips like water overflowing a glass; he just can’t stop fucking saying that he’s sorry, because he _is_ , he’s so _fucking sorry_ ; he didn’t meant to go and fuck it all up. He was just curious and now look what he’s done. He has three seconds to figure out what to say to make it all go back to being okay, and he knows that the words he needs are not, “I’m sorry.”

So instead, he comes up with, “It was a joke!”

Liam raises his eyebrows. “A joke?” The only readable emotion on his face is shock.

“Yeah!” Zayn confirms, keeping up the charade, seeing that it seems to be working. “A joke. You know, just…playing around and all.”

“Just…playing around?” Liam checks, swallowing.

Zayn nods, gung-ho, despite being able to hear the furthered shattering of his heart with each passing second. “Yup! Just got a little carried away, mate; thought it’d make for a good laugh. Sorry if it was too far.”

Liam appears to snap out of something, and then it feels like he’s recovering from something, but the transition happens too quickly for Zayn to fully be able to process it. “Yeah, no, it’s fine, man,” Liam reassures his friend, running a hand through his own hair. “Yeah, it was plenty funny.” He’s grinning now, that trademark Liam Payne grin, the one he gives to all the cameras, and that’s how Zayn knows that they’re still not completely okay. His stomach twists at the realization, and he decides that he _needs_ to make it okay.

From that point on, getting his friendship with Liam back to the way it had been before becomes Zayn Malik’s number one priority in life. He never stops hanging out with Liam as bros, pointing out chicks Liam might like in bars, talking about the latest football game, joking around and wrestling. He’s trying to get back to that dynamic they’d had so well-established before. And for the most part, they get there. Only, they’re missing one part, and it sucks, because it’s the part that really matters.

Zayn’s friendship with Liam had always been different from his friendships with the other boys. It had always been something deeper, something more. They’d always been able to open up to each other the way they couldn’t with the others. Stay up late at night and talk about dreams and favorite song lyrics and why and all that bullshit. But now, that’s gone. Liam doesn’t come to Zayn anymore, and Zayn never wants to be a bother to Liam. So they’re stuck in this stasis, where everything is okay, but it wasn’t the brilliant it was before.

And Zayn hates it, he fucking hates it, because he knows it’s all his fault, and if he had just practiced some of the damn control he was so well-known for, nothing would have changed. And that would have been just fine by Zayn. Well, except that…

Zayn wants things to change with Liam.

Not just back to the way they were; yes, he wants all that back, but he also wants even more than that with Liam. As the months and years go on, Zayn realizes that he wants Sunday mornings and tangled sheets and lazy stubble kisses and 2 AM fights and cuddling and movie nights and rainy days and normal days and busy schedules and regrouping at the end of the day and breakdowns and thrown-down gauntlets and everything in between. He wants all the stupid cliché bullshit, but he only wants it with Liam.

But Liam made it very clear on that one day in 2010 that he wants none of that with Zayn. So Zayn stays quiet, and watches from afar, and learns the virtue of admiring something for its beauty and loving it regardless of the fact that it can never love you back.

And then there’s Danielle, and Danielle’s there for a long time, but then Danielle’s gone, and Zayn dares to hope. But then Danielle’s back, and when she leaves again, Zayn doesn’t make the mistake of hoping again. Only, this time it feels like it’s for real, because she leaves in a whirlwind of misunderstandings and mis-communications and misinterpretations and disagreements and errors in perception and hurt and tears and pieces of Liam’s heart that Zayn wishes he could put back together.

They’ve finally gone back to normal by this point. Zayn doesn’t know exactly how, but he supposes it’s just the natural progression of events. As much as Zayn can’t seem to pull away from Liam, Liam can’t seem to pull away from Zayn, either, even if it’s not in the same way. They need each other, whether they want to admit it or not. It’s best for both of them to just accept it.

So they’ve gone back to late night talks about the universe and what matters and their beliefs and values and aspirations. The connection is the same way it’s always been, deep and raw and realer than anything Zayn’s ever had with anyone else.

One night, when Liam’s reflecting on his recent breakup while in Zayn’s room, he says, “I think—I think I kept trying to make it work with her because—because it was Danielle, you know? I mean—it was Danielle, but at the same time, I’d made Danielle so much more than Danielle, she was—she was supposed to be The One. That girl I’d dreamed of for so long, and…and when she didn’t turn out to live up to all the expectations I’d had of her, because I’d turned her into—into this—this symbol of how my life was supposed to play out—you know, become a pop star, get a nice wife, a good family, move out to the suburbs—when she stopped fitting into that picture, when I realized that she wasn’t everything I’d wanted her to be—I couldn’t take it. I kept trying to make her fit where she just—didn’t. That’s why I kept going back to her. Because I’d always thought it was going to be her, and when it wasn’t, I didn’t know how to find anyone else. I couldn’t cope with it being anyone else. I didn’t want it to be anyone else.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say. He knows that he wants to say that the idea of getting a good family and moving out to the suburbs with Liam sounds lovely to Zayn, that he knows he can’t be the wife Liam always dreamed of but that he wants so desperately to be everything Liam’s always wanted, that he doesn’t mind expectations from Liam, that he will strive to live up to them every single day, and that when he falls short, he’ll try harder and they’ll _make_ it work, damn it.

But Zayn can’t say any of that, so he says nothing.

There’s not much time between Danielle and Sophia, so there’s not much time for Zayn to build up any real amount of hope, so he’s not crushed when he hears that his bandmate has found a new love interest. Well, not as crushed as he could be. Not as crushed as he was when he found out about Danielle the first time. Or the second time. He’s able to pretend better that it doesn’t hurt like hell.

Only it does. Oh, it so does. It doesn’t just hurt at night, when Zayn’s lying in bed alone, wishing Liam was next to him and brushing his fingers over his own lips, remembering what Liam’s felt like against them. It hurts in the day, too, when Liam’s draping himself all over Zayn, getting all up in his personal space, flashing that damn dimple at him, laughing right next to his ear, brushing his knuckles just against Zayn’s jaw. It’s the sweetest kind of torture, this need he can only quench in small doses. It’s even worse when he’s with one of the boys or a fan or even a _complete stranger_ and something reminds him of Liam and he can’t help but feel the need to bring his name into every stupid conversation.

One day, he and Harry are taking a day on a boat, and Harry mentions how Ben Affleck is going to be the next Batman, and that really is just the quintessential Liam thing, so of course Zayn just has to say, “Yeah, Liam told me about that—He said he’s excited to see such a seasoned actor take on the role, but at the same time, he’s not sure if—”

But then he cuts himself off, because he sees that Harry is just looking at him, with that God damned pity that Zayn _hates_ but has come to expect whenever he brings up Liam around one of the guys. Which is why he’s been trying to avoid bringing up Liam. But it just keeps coming out of him; the longer it goes on, the less able he is to stop it.

Zayn sighs. “What?” He knows what the answer is, and doesn’t want to hear it, but he asks anyways.

“You should tell him,” Harry says rather nonchalantly, working with the sail.

“I can’t,” Zayn says tiredly, rolling his eyes. They’ve been over this a thousand fucking times; when is Harry going to get it that things just aren’t the same for him and Liam as they were for Harry and Louis? It’s not that simple for them; it never has been and it never will be.

“Yeah, you always say that,” Harry states, sitting down across from Zayn, “but you never give a valid reason why.”

“He’s straight,” Zayn reminds his friend.

“That boy is not straight,” Harry disagrees. “I don’t care what his tweets say.”

Zayn cracks a grin at that one; he must admit, he’s had his suspicions, too. It’s tough not to when he sometimes catches Liam looking certain men up and down. “He has a girlfriend,” Zayn points out. “Someone who makes him happy. ‘S not my place to interfere.”

“I bet you’d make him happier.”

“That’s not for either of us to say.”

Zayn can’t quite make out what Harry says next, but it sounds like, “He loves you, too.” Zayn doesn’t ask Harry to repeat it.

There are times when Zayn almost lets himself believe what he thinks he heard Harry say that day, when Zayn thinks he catches Liam’s eyes darting down to Zayn’s lips if for just a second, or when Liam’s hand lingers for just a beat too long on Zayn’s shoulder, or when he says things like, “Zayn is the kindest person I know,” in interviews. But then Zayn’s always sure what he thought was the sudden movement of Liam’s eyes was really just a trick of the light, and Liam always pulls his hand away, and he always avoids Zayn’s gaze after saying such lovely things.

So Zayn never puts much stock in any of it. 

Besides, there’s still Sophia, and before Sophia, there’d been Danielle, and if Sophia leaves, there’ll be someone after her, and eventually there’s going to be The One that Liam’s always dreamed of, and Zayn’s going to be nothing more than part of the wedding party, playing the role of best man, if he’s lucky. Zayn will watch Liam get the life he’s always wanted, and he won’t even resent Liam for it. He’ll be happy for him, truly.

Niall shakes his head one day when Zayn’s explaining it. “I just don’t understand it, mate. How can you give so much of yourself to someone without ever expecting anything in return?”

Zayn shrugs. “I love him.”

“So what, man?” Niall pushes. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, you’re ‘ _happy for him_?’ Why aren’t you depressed as fuck?”

“I am,” Zayn counters mildly.

“Then…how are you happy?”

“Just because I’m happy for him,” Zayn explains, “doesn’t mean I’m not depressed for myself.”

Niall doesn’t reply to that.

It’s been years since Zayn’s had hope. He’s sort of given up on the whole idea of it, resigned himself to a life of loving what he can never have and dreaming of what will never be his.

And then it happens.

Zayn’s not expecting it at all. Liam’s the one who brings it up. He doesn’t even talk to Zayn about it beforehand; he just goes for it, just like Zayn had all those years ago.

“Liam: I ended up kissing Zayn once! Zayn was like, ‘Come on then, come on,’ putting his head close to me-like when you’re going to have a fight. Then he just leaned forward and kissed me!”

Zayn’s staring at the magazine, wondering just why the fuck Liam’s brought up something that happened _years_ ago. He’s not hopeful; he’s pissed off. Just what the hell kind of mind game is Liam playing here? Has he known about Zayn’s secret this whole time, known the pain Zayn’s been through? Is this his way of laughing in Zayn’s face?

Yes, Zayn knows that he’d brought it up once, too, but that was different! He’d been feeling reckless that day, and limitless, and he’d known it was a bad idea, that it was stupid to do, but none of that’s ever stopped him before, so he’d gone for it. And he doesn’t even regret it, not even now. 

The interview’s been long immortalized on the internet, countless pictures and quotes of, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but one day Liam and I were goofing around and we ending up kissing!”

But that wasn’t a joke to Zayn. It was a challenge; he’d known Liam would see it, sure, but that was exactly the _point_. He was telling Liam that he still remembered, and he wanted Liam to acknowledge it, too. He _wanted_ Liam to confront him about it, get up in his face, ask why he’d brought it up, so Zayn could be honest then. That hadn’t happened, though; Liam hadn’t even commented on the interview, had acted like he hadn’t seen it. Still, at least Zayn had tried.

Liam’s motives, though, are clearly vastly different.

He’s mocking Zayn. Because it’s obvious now that he knows exactly what that kiss had meant to Zayn; how could he not? Telling the story in such detail, letting Zayn know that Liam remembers the kiss _exactly_ , and, if Zayn takes into account Liam’s actions of the past five years, that the kiss also hadn’t meant a thing to Liam. It really was all just a joke to him.

Zayn stays away from twitter; knows exactly what he’ll find there. He turns his phone off; whatever Harry or Niall or Louis have to say, he doesn’t want to hear it. And as for whatever Liam has to say….Well, it looks like he’s already said it.

Zayn is lying in bed, listening to sad music, and feeling sorry for himself when Liam barges in. He’s got tears in his eyes, looking a lot how Zayn has felt for the past five years: Broken.

“I just talked to Harry,” Liam informs Zayn, skipping preamble. Zayn closes his eyes against what he knows is coming; fucking Harry Styles would surely leave no room for interpretation when telling Liam what’s going on with Zayn. “You said it was a joke,” Liam accuses, choking on the words.

“I thought that’s what you wanted it to be,” Zayn responds confusedly, taking his headphones out and getting up off the bed.

“I didn’t,” Liam disagrees, stepping towards Zayn and ending up an inch away from him. “I don’t.”

“What—What do you mean?” Zayn doesn’t dare hope again, not after hope has hurt him so many times, but then again—

“I _mean_ that—that you—” Liam cuts himself off then, and Zayn _knows_ it’s not his imagination when Liam’s eyes flick down to Zayn’s lips, because they stay there for two beats. But then Liam tears himself away from Zayn harshly, shouting, “ _Damn it_ , Zayn! You—you—Why do you always have to make everything so _bloody_ complicated?”

“I—I don’t—What?” Zayn feels like quite the idiot right now, seeing as he is not understanding _anything_ going on, other than the fact that _Liam definitely just looked at his lips what did that mean_ —

“If you had just not been such a _git_ and _told me_ what that kiss meant when it happened, we could be--!” Liam cuts himself off again, looking away.

“We could be what?” Zayn asks carefully, walking towards Liam and stopping in front of him. “We could be what, Liam?”

Liam looks up and meets Zayn’s gaze fiercely, and Zayn couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to. “What we should be.”

“And what’s that?”

“Oh, piss off, Zayn!” Liam shouts, pushing Zayn away. “Fuck, you know exactly what that is!”

“No, I don’t!” Zayn shouts back. “All right, Liam, this is just as confusing for me as it is for you! So if you have some thoughts you’d like to share with me, I think now would be a good time to do it!”

“So would five years ago!” Liam retaliates. “Fucking hell, Zayn, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear it!” Zayn declares. “The way you reacted—I mean, what was I supposed to think? Liam, you didn’t even kiss me back.”

Liam sighs and looks down. “All right, that was my fault, I’ll admit it, but—I was in shock! Christ, Zayn, we were _kids_! I—I thought that I was—I mean, when you—I’d never—” He breaks off and tries again, “I’d never kissed a bloke before. Hell, I thought I was straight. I didn’t realize that what I was feeling for you was more than friendship, and then you kissed me, and—and I was confused. I didn’t know how to react.”

“Well why didn’t you say something instead of scaring me and thinking I’d fucked up our friendship?” Zayn questions. “Why didn’t you tell me you just needed to work some stuff out? Why’d you make me pine after you for years instead of—?”

“I was going to!” Liam bursts out. “Really, I was, but then you said it was a joke, so I never got the chance to say that it was something more to me. I mean, God, Zayn, if you had just told me how you felt, I would’ve—I’d have—I’d…”

Zayn lets Liam trail off, stalking towards him, getting into his personal space. “You’d have what?”

“I’d…I’d have…”

“What would you have done, Liam?”

Zayn watches Liam’s gaze drift down to Zayn’s lips, then back up to his eyes, before saying, “This.”

Then Liam’s pulling Zayn forward by the back of his head, and melding their lips together, and, oh God, Liam’s lips are still just as soft, and he still tastes of citrus and mint, only this time, Zayn’s tongue is allowed to explore deeper, into the crevices of Liam’s mouth, and he finds all the ridges and bumps he’s dreamed of feeling for so long, and this is it, this is everything he’s been needing for days and months and years, Liam’s right hand on the back of Zayn’s neck, his left on Zayn’s hip, and Zayn’s hands reaching under Liam’s arms and curving into his shoulders. He doesn’t hold back this time; he’s waited for too long and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give this his fucking all. He presses himself into Liam, breathing in deeply, and grins in satisfaction when he hears Liam breathe the same way, then give a little moan. That only encourages him to go farther, place his leg in between Liam’s and—

But then Liam pulls away. Yes, Liam is the one to pull away this time, and Zayn is left chasing after those lips like they’re providing the very air he needs to survive.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks.

And all it takes is one word to bring this beautiful paradise crashing down around Zayn:

“Sophia.”

Yes. Yes, of course, Sophia. That’s why everything is wrong. It would be fine that they had wasted so much time before—Not good, but fine—if only things weren’t so difficult now. And they are difficult now because of Sophia. Because Liam had thought that he should go find someone for himself, someone who would make him happy, regardless of how he’d apparently always felt about Zayn, because Zayn said it was a _joke_ , damn it, and now here they are: Hopelessly in love and cheating assholes.

Zayn steps back, firmly, no stumbling this time. Liam remains there for a second, up against Zayn’s wall. His pupils are blown and his hair is ruffled and his cheeks are flushed and he is the picture of what Zayn has always wanted to make him: Destroyed.

After all, Liam has destroyed Zayn. This is only payment in kind.

The parallel is heartbreaking, Liam standing there against the wall after a kiss, staring at Zayn, trying to figure out what to do about his feelings for the boy in front of him while Zayn tries to hide his own for the boy in front of him. Only they’re men now, and it’s time they stop fucking around with this shit. It’s been five years, and either Liam loves him, or he doesn’t. 

Liam looks at Zayn for a few crushing seconds more, licking his lips, and Zayn lets himself believe that Liam is trying to savor Zayn’s taste. The look in Liam’s eyes is that of an apology when he pushes himself off the wall, brushes past Zayn, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Zayn’s learned many things in five years of being in love with the same man, but he still has more learning to do: How to let go.

He doesn’t begrudge Liam. He knows, all right, he _knows_ that Liam has expectations to live up to, and a girlfriend he loves, and fuck, Zayn knows. He understands. But not knowledge, nor even understanding, have ever been enough to heal a broken heart.

Zayn’s going to talk to the team about ending the PR bull with Perrie; it’s not fair to either of them. All it’s doing is keeping them from being able to realistically pursue relationships with people they’re actually interested in. That hasn’t been a problem for Zayn before, since the only one he’s been interested in has been unavailable in every single way, but Zayn’s planning on changing that now.

He’s going to go out and get himself a nice boyfriend or girlfriend. He’ll start out with a classy, traditional one-night stand. Someone to kiss and screw and for once not pretend is a boy with warm brown eyes and an intense dislike of spoons and shoulder muscles that could put any footie player to shame and a laugh like sunshine.

He’s going to be fine.

In fact, the next night, after the show, they all go out to a club, and Zayn does find someone. She’s pretty, brunette, brown eyes. Her physical similarities to Zayn’s bandmate are purely coincidental, and she is quite willing to come back to Zayn’s hotel room with him.

The next morning, the girl’s already gone when he wakes up, and Zayn is grateful for it. He’d been careful in his selection the previous night; he’d been sure that whoever he chose would be discrete, and would understand that he would certainly make the night worth their while, but that it was _just_ one night.

There are pictures the next day, of course. The headlines read out that “One Direction’s Bad Boy is Moving On!” They’re right, of course, just not in the way they think they are. Because Zayn is not moving on from the woman he played at being engaged to for years.

He knows that all the boys have seen the pictures by the time they get to rehearsal before the show, but no one says anything. Liam doesn’t look at him once the whole night.

He hadn’t done it to get a rise out of Liam; really, it wasn’t revenge or anything. Zayn genuinely is just trying to get over this colossal love affair that never got the chance to fail. If Liam doesn’t like it, that’s just too bad. It’s just the way things have turned out.

The next day is travel, then setting up in their respective hotel rooms. Zayn is just setting his alarm for the next day when there’s a knock on his door. When he opens it, he finds the exact person he’d been needing, but definitely not wanting, to see.

“Liam?”

“Shut up.”

Liam’s charging into the room, slamming the door behind him. And then he’s yanking Zayn in by the back of his neck, and planting his lips against Zayn’s with the certainty of a man who knows exactly what he wants and has waited far too long to get it.

Zayn _would_ pull back and ask what is going on, but he is not about to pull away from this, not again; he’ll ask all the questions he needs to later, after all this has happened. For now, he’s going to let himself have this. He’s going to yield to Liam’s hands, pushing Zayn’s jacket down from around his shoulders. He’s going to let Liam pin Zayn up against the wall, and stop kissing his lips so he can go for his neck instead, biting and sucking and making Zayn moan louder than he ever has, because, fuck, he’s imagined this over ten thousand times, but imagination really is nothing compared to the real thing, to the actual sensation of Liam’s lips dragging against Zayn’s jaw. And then Liam is tugging Zayn’s shirt over his head, and stepping back from him for a moment and just looking at him, and Zayn would blush, because Liam is looking at him like he’s something to be worshipped, but Zayn is twenty-two, damn it, and he’ll be damned if he’s caught blushing like a schoolgirl when he finally gets in bed with the man he’s been having fantasies about for five years.

Liam tears his eyes away from Zayn’s torso then, meeting his eyes. His hand encircles around Zayn’s wrist and he says softly, “Come on, then” as he pulls Zayn over to the bed. “Come on.”

Zayn shakes his head ruefully; of course Liam would bring that back up, of bloody course.

He obeys, though, following Liam to the bed and letting himself be pushed down onto it. He watches as Liam climbs on over him, hands on either sides of Zayn’s head. His mouth finds Zayn’s again, and the sloppy kisses resume. Zayn is feeling this all in crystal clear sharpness, every sight in HD, every sound amplified, and every touch brimming with energy.

Liam is sitting back on his heels now, and Zayn’s sitting up, the question hanging in the air between them: Is this the part where Liam leaves? The part where he realizes what he’s doing, sees all the reasons why he shouldn’t be doing it, can’t be doing it, and makes his way out of Zayn’s life for good? Is this the last they’re ever going to get of this?

For a second, it almost looks like that’s exactly what’s going to happen. But then Liam smiles, _actually_ smiles, with that damn dimple that has made millions swoon (Zayn may or may not be one of those millions). He then starts, slowly and deliberately, unbuttoning his flannel. Zayn’s staring, he _knows_ he’s staring, but at this point, he really does not care. He has waited five years to watch Liam Payne take off his shirt just for him; he’s going to enjoy it, damn it.

Liam quirks an eyebrow when he notices Zayn watching him with such rapt attention, but doesn’t comment, so neither does Zayn. When Liam finally shrugs the offending garment off, he’s leaning back down when Zayn stops him by placing a hand on his chest. Liam backs up, looking at Zayn curiously.

“Just give me a moment,” Zayn begs. Liam nods slowly, allowing Zayn to get his bearings. Because, quite frankly, Zayn still cannot believe that this is real and that this is happening, that he’s doing this with _Liam_ , the one he’s had late night talks with, the one he’s shared coffee cups and countless secrets with, the one who was always there, except when he wasn’t for a while, and now they’re here. So Zayn needs a moment.

He recovers admirably, though, flipping Liam over and assaulting the man’s lips with his own. Liam makes a sound of pleased surprise into his mouth, so Zayn keeps going. He’s not some inexperienced seventeen-year-old anymore; he has _skills_ , as well as something to prove.

“Did—you just—take a moment—so you could—gain—a tactical—advantage—in tackling me—to the bed?” Liam asks between kisses, when Zayn pauses long enough to let him.

“Mhm,” Zayn hums, relocating to Liam’s neck, and reveling in the way Liam gasps and grips at Zayn’s hips suddenly. “And it worked.”

“Touché,” Liam chokes out. He’s panting and clearly trying not to moan, which delights Zayn. He picks a spot that he’s always had some suspicions about, the place right above Liam’s collar bone. Those suspicions are confirmed when he kisses there and Liam sucks in a breath. Zayn nods to himself, knowing he’s found the spot that will absolutely ruin Liam. He latches his teeth onto there and begins to suck, making his bandmate cry out, “Fuck, Zayn!” Liam’s head falls back and he groans as Zayn sucks a mark into the spot. “Z—Zayn, oh…oh, God, Zayn—I—Oh.”

Zayn chuckles at that, murmuring, “My, I never knew you were so sensitive, Liam.”

“Shut up,” Liam orders, but his voice is hoarse.

Zayn starts making his way down Liam’s chest, biting at his right nipple once he gets there, then gliding soothing licks over the spot. His goal here is to reduce Liam to an absolute mewling mess beneath him, and so far, he thinks he’s on the right track, if Liam’s never-ending sighs are anything to go by.

He’s just thumbing Liam’s jeans open when he hears it: “Wait.”

Liam’s hand is suddenly on his own, and he knows that this is finally it; he’s gone too far, pushed the limits too much, and now Liam wants this over. All right, that’s fine; Zayn’s grateful to have gotten what he has here. Not many can say that they’ve gotten to second base with the person they’ve loved for longer than they care to remember. Much fewer can say they’ve gotten to second base with Liam, of all people, with his tender touches and beautiful eyes—

Zayn’s train of thought is caught off by Liam flipping them over so that Zayn is on his back, gaping up at Liam. And Liam is, of course, smirking, like the bastard he is.

“If you thought I’d be that easy,” he purrs, voice smooth as silk, “you have another thing coming, Malik.”

“So you’re how I thought you’d be at this,” Zayn instantly surmises, then squeezes his eyes shut for a second, realizing that he’s basically just confessed to fantasizing about Liam dominating him.

The corner of Liam’s mouth quirks up, and he tilts his head, looking like the definition of “gleeful.” “’That so?” he inquires.

“Shut up,” Zayn begs, letting his head drop down and looking up at the ceiling.

“Sure thing,” Liam concedes, bowing his head and placing kisses on Zayn’s now exposed neck.

“Oh, fuck,” Zayn moans, shifting around and giving Liam more access. “Liam, I—Christ.”

Liam’s moving down the side of Zayn’s neck to his collar bone while popping Zayn’s skinnies open and sliding the zipper down. “’This okay?” he asks softly against Zayn’s ear, tracing his tongue over it.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes out, feeling dizzy. “Yeah, bloody brilliant.”

Liam nods and slowly slides his hand into Zayn’s pants, remaining in front of Zayn’s boxers and stroking painfully slowly. Zayn is trying his best not to sound horribly desperate for it right now, because it’s just Liam’s hand on his dick, but at the same time, it’s _Liam’s_ hand on his dick, and just the mere thought of this has been enough to make Zayn come in the past. And now that it’s actually _happening_ , Zayn is finding it a little difficult to keep his breathing even.

“’Still okay?” Liam checks, leaning down and kissing Zayn again. 

Zayn nods, never wanting this to end, but kind of wanting it to go farther. He swallows and says delicately, “You can, um…you don’t have to stay…where you are.”

Liam laughs then, teasing, “Eager, are we?”

“What, you’re not?”

“No, not really.”

“Really?” Zayn inquires. His eyes flick down to Liam’s bulge. “The evidence says otherwise, Mister Payne.”

Liam laughs again, easily, kissing Zayn _again_ , and Zayn knows he is never going to tire of this. Liam eases him out of his jeans, and Zayn gasps when he feels Liam’s hand move below his shorts. Liam keeps on, moving his thumb over Zayn’s slit, still moving his lips against Zayn’s.

“How are you so good at this?” Zayn asks, because, really, it’s not fair. It’s almost more than Zayn can take.

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ that—didn’t you think you were straight?”

“In 2010, yeah,” Liam grants. “But after you kissed me and I had a bit of a—realization—Well, I started _experimenting_. But then there was Danielle, but then there wasn’t, and I started…experimenting again. Experimenting further, actually.”

“So, this isn’t your first—?”

“No,” Liam admits. “But it is the first that’s really meant something to me.”

Zayn finds that he can’t break away from Liam’s gaze then, and barely even notices when Liam undoes his own trousers, shimmies them down his legs, and kicks them off. Until, of course, he _does_ notice, because it would be pretty hard to _not_ notice.

Zayn’s heard all the rumors about the “ten inch ‘Payne,’” and it’s not like he’s doubted Liam having a nice dick or anything—he’s always been sure Liam has a lovely dick, truly—but he thought that people seriously must have been blowing things out of proportion. Turns out, he was wrong.

He doesn’t want to sound like some sort of lusting maiden in a romance novel designed for fifty-year-old women, but— _Christ_ , Liam’s cock is _amazing_. Like, literally so perfect that Zayn almost can’t believe it’s real. He licks his lips before he can tell himself not to, and Liam notices, smirks.

“Like what you see, babe?”

“Shut up and get over here _right now_ ,” Zayn demands, because he has had enough of fucking around.

Liam raises his eyebrows. There’s a confidential smile on his face when he teases, “What happened to shy, quiet Zayn?”

“I’ll show you how fucking quiet I am,” Zayn promises, yanking Liam back down and kissing him hard enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on Liam’s skin; he can feel them where he’s holding Li’s right arm. He gives a loud moan into Liam’s mouth, knowing exactly the effect he’s having. He knows just how to turn a person on with his voice, and he knows very well how much Liam _admires_ his voice. Time for him to hear it in an all new way.

Zayn smirks when he hears a whimper from Liam, knowing that—though the stubborn, proud man doesn’t want to show it—Zayn is definitely getting to him. Still kissing Liam, he reaches his hand slowly down between them and—dear _God_ —wraps his hand around Liam’s prick.

Liam jolts at that, clearly not having been expecting it. “Is this okay?” Zayn asks, pulling away from his lips, looking dead in Liam’s eyes. Liam gives a few frantic nods, choking on his attempts at words. Zayn gently prompts, “What do you want me to do, babe?”

“An—anything,” Liam pants out. “Just—just do _something_ , Zayn, I— _anything_.”

Zayn lets himself laugh then, just because he’s so fucking happy. Not to mention, it is pretty amusing to see the great Liam Payne begging Zayn to give him a handjob.

“Zayn, come _on_ ,” Liam whines.

“Don’t you mean, ‘come on then?’” Zayn mocks. Hey, if Liam’s allowed to play that card, so is Zayn.

“Shut _up_!” Liam pleads. “Just— _please_.”

“All right, all right,” Zayn relents. He slowly moves his hand up, and Liam’s response is immediate and gorgeous. His hips stutter, he grabs onto the headboard behind Zayn, his mouth forms a silent, “Oh.” Zayn leans forward and kisses in the hollow of Liam’s neck on the down-stroke, and Liam sighs gently. “You’re so hot,” Zayn states, marveling at the sight before him; Liam, with his eyes screwed shut and his body giving little involuntary shudders every so often. Zayn groans, desire overcoming him. “You’re _too_ hot.”

“Hot damn? Call the police and the—?”

“Oh my God, you’re such a _dork_ ,” Zayn laments. “How are you such a _dork_?”

“It’s just part of my charm.” Liam grins down at Zayn, who shakes his head, wondering why the hell he’s so in love with the idiot in front of him. (He will deny to his last breath that that—exactly what Liam has just done—is precisely why.) “I mean, who could resist, right?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, deciding it’s time to shut this moron up, once and for all. He gives a rather mean flick of his wrist, and Liam lets out an, “Oh, _God_!”

“Not so slick now, are you, Payne?” Zayn taunts wickedly.

“Fuck off,” Liam attempts to order, but the way his voice breaks makes it rather unconvincing.

Zayn keeps on the current track, and can’t help but notice Liam’s clear efforts to show restraint. They’re both sweating by now, but Liam still has only let go in short, isolated moments. Zayn really wants to change that.

So the next time Liam tenses at Zayn stroking his thumb over Liam’s slit, Zayn takes charge. “’S okay, babe,” he murmurs. “You’re allowed to let go. I _want_ you to. Come on, Li. Lose yourself for me. Moan for me.”

Liam _does_ moan then, loudly, seemingly taking heed of Zayn’s words, and the result is the most gorgeous sound Zayn’s ever heard. He continues to moan as Zayn moves his hand carefully moves his hand, testing the waters. Liam keens when Zayn rubs his thumb over the slit, but he hisses when Zayn traces his finger along the vein on the underside. “It’s sensitive,” he explains sheepishly, and Zayn nods, completely understanding and moving back to where he can tell Liam likes it.

After a few more strokes, Liam goes back to stroking Zayn, too, but they both notice the friction, so Liam asks, “Where’s the—?”

“Here.” Zayn reaches under his pillow to reveal a bottle of lube. Liam looks at him quizzically, and he blushes under the younger boy’s gaze. He looks down when he explains, “I, uh…like to keep it handy at night…just in case I, uh…think of you.”

“You think of me while you’re…?”

The blush increases. “Yes.”

“Zayn. Zayn, look at me.” Zayn shakes his head, but Liam’s hand reaches under his chin and forces him to meet Liam’s gaze. “That is the _hottest_ thing I have _ever_ heard in my entire life.”

Zayn grins, eyes careening over Liam’s form. “Well you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Then you must not have had access to mirrors in your life,” Liam remarks, and Zayn laughs. Liam’s wrong, but it’s very nice to have him say such sweet things to Zayn. He slicks up his fingers, then passes it to Zayn, who does the same. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Zayn affirms. “Yeah, ready.”

Liam slowly takes Zayn back in hand as Zayn mirrors him, and they work each other slowly. Liam’s hand is seeking, yes, but it’s also…gentle. That’s the thing that stuns Zayn about all this; how _careful_ Liam’s being with all of it, as if he’s afraid of breaking whatever this is. And he’s not breaking eye contact. It’s like he’s trying to tell Zayn something, but Zayn doesn’t want to get his hopes up about what that something might be.

And, _oh_ , Liam wasn’t lying when he said he’s had experience; there is definite know-how behind the way he works his hand on Zayn. He can feel the hot feeling in his stomach building, building—All it takes is one more down-stroke, and Zayn is gone, coming with a shout, voice breaking over Liam’s name. Liam works him through the aftershocks, then his head falls onto Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn dazedly rubs him once, twice more before Liam is coming and moaning out Zayn’s name. He’s beautiful; he’s so, so beautiful, Zayn can’t believe it as Liam falls on top of him, panting and sweaty and closing his eyes as Zayn runs his hand through his bandmate’s hair.

He then lifts himself up and falls beside Zayn, crushing the pillows beneath them. They’re quiet, staring at the ceiling together. One beat of silence. Two. Three.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just…” Liam shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never heard your voice crack that much on a high note.”

“Oi, shut up!” Zayn orders, taking a pillow from behind his head and throwing it at Liam, who’s laughing his ass off.

“Never,” Liam refuses, leaning in and kissing Zayn, who takes no issue with kissing back.

But Zayn had told himself that he would ask Liam all the questions he needed to ask when this had all been done, so although he hates doing it, he pulls away. “Wait.”

“For what?” Liam’s brow is furrowed, and he’s on the verge of pouting, and, oh, Zayn really hopes that this all meant what he wants it to, because he really wants to get to kiss that look away.

“What—What did all this _mean_?” Zayn asks genuinely. “I mean—I’m guessing you broke up with Sophia.”

“Well deduced,” Liam says with a nod and a gleam on his face.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “But that still doesn’t tell me why you just came into my room and fucked me senseless just now.”

Liam leans back into the bed and considers Zayn. “Why do you think I did?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn replies steadily. “That’s why I asked.”

“Really?” Liam checks. “You have no idea why?”

“I know why I want you to have done it.”

“And why’s that?”

Zayn narrows his eyes. All right, now Liam’s just fucking with him. “Well why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Liam throws back. “That’s why I asked.”

They could keep going on like this, but to be quite frank, Zayn’s tired of dancing around these feelings, so he looks Liam dead in the eyes and says, “Well being in love with you for the past five years may have something to do with my desires.”

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You—you love me?”

“Of course I do, you git!” Zayn exclaims. “It’s been driving me insane for way too long, and it’s felt like hell, but I haven’t even wanted it to end, because I don’t even hate loving you; I hate how I don’t hate it! I love you, and I never want to stop, no matter how much pain it causes me; that’s how much I love you, you absolute—”

Liam’s mouth on his cuts him off. Zayn’s about to push Liam away and yell at him because he was just laying his stupid heart on the line here and now is really not the time for round two, but then he notices: It’s not lustful. It’s…sweet and slow and pure. It’s unhurried and relaxed and reverent. Liam is gentle when he pushes Zayn down onto the mattress, and their lips make a soft sound when they disconnect. Their breathing is slightly uneven, and Liam murmurs, “I love you, too.”

Zayn stops asking questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome! (Including criticism! Make me better by making me cry! (I kid, I kid. I don't cry over criticism; I WELCOME it, so PLEASE CRITIQUE--especially the sex; it's my first time posting smut, yo.))  
> Thank you for reading! :D <3
> 
> P.S. I'm looking for a beta for my next Zayn/Liam fic, so if you're interested, feel free to message me at thewriternotthemuse.tumblr.com! :) <3


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